The Damned of Dubai
by Mr B.Hunt
Summary: A few short stories of the Damned 33rd and their encounters with the insane Delta Squad. Taken from the 33rd's perspective with swearing. One Shot.


The Damned 33rd, lead by the charismatic Colonel John Konrad, were in disarray. Not only did a large majority died during the attempted extraction of the population of Dubai, half of the battalion turned traitor and were forced to be put down. Then with the surviving civilians beginning to rebel and the CIA wanting to destroy the remaining survivors, the battalion were cut thin, barely able to enforce martial law. Then Delta Squad turned up and turned everything to shit.

Sergeant Dylan Cooper was one of the few stationed on the Radio Man's tower, who was the voice of Dubai, trying to keep an up beat attitude in this hell hole. He stood outside on the skyscraper's dance floor, patrolling among the many manikins that were situated everywhere. The excuse that the Radio Man gave was "It was less lonely, besides what else could you do with a couple of manikins?"

"Hey, Sarge?" Private Gordan asked quietly, Sergeant Dylan turned to him.

"Yeah, Private?" He asked in a raspy voice, the amount of water allowed was microscopic now that the only storage of it was destroyed, now almost everyone's throats were dry as the sand around them.

"Why did that squad slaughter those civilians? Why did they destroy the water?" The questions were asked innocently but it made Dylan shake in rage.

"Because some men play the hero too hard and become the villian." The Sergeant answered and coughed. "Crazy fuckers is what those three are." He stated and looked over to one of the opposite skyscraper, at the snipers that were sitting on the edge. Suddenly a loud crack popped Dylan's ears and he immediately threw himself behind a sandbag wall.

"Fuck!" One of the other soldiers, Private Rex, shouted as he was shot at by an unseen shooter. The Sergeant peered over the edge of his wall and spotted something glistening on the opposite tower, where the previous snipers were just before. Suddenly he felt a massive pain in his shoulder, then darkness overcame him. Yet another victim to the slaughter.

* * *

The aquatic colosseum was where the 33rd stored the remaining water within Dubai. It was one of the most heavily defended places that the Damned controlled, if they lost this water, Dubai would die. So when a large force of insurgents attacked with the psychotic Delta squad, then it became a massive firefight to defend the water and the life of the survivors. Many soldiers died within the first minute, but a small squad were holding back at the back gates.

"Lay down covering fire!" Lieutenant Daniels screamed over the deafening gunfire that spat bullets from every direction, his squad complied and sprayed down the road, causing the insurgents to duck and gave the men time to reload.

"Last mag over here!" Corporal Collen barked from the other sandbag wall, his M4A1's barrel smoking as he held a mag in his other hand.

"Catch!" Daniels called and threw another mag over, the soldier caught it and reloaded. "Head count!"

"We lost Zack, Elliot is injured and only you, William, Collen and I have ammo, Quinn is out." Private Fredrick said from beside him, his face covered in sand and sweat. "He ran back inside with a bayonet, haven't seen him since."

"Fuck! Alright, we hold until reinforcements come!" Lieutenant Daniels shouted and his squad joined him in firing at the refugee rebels, after a few seconds he heard a scream from beside him and knew Fred was out. He ducked and reloaded before peering around the side of the wall and fired his M4A1 at a rebel near a sand covered car, then a loud droning caught his attention. Suddenly the gate behind him was smashed open, four trucks zoomed out. It surprised the troops and they watched the trucks go, then Williams screamed out.

"They have the water!" The call caused the soldiers of the 33rd to fire at the retreating trucks, though due to their reckless firing they were cut down by the insurgents. Yet another group to the slaughter.

* * *

When Zulu squad were called in, they got the job done. No matter what, they would emerge victorious. When Sergeant Cole Polter first encountered Delta, he knew they wouldn't succeed this time. He was right too, these maniacs cut his squad down and continued on without another glance. Cole poked his head out from behind a overturned truck as he followed after the bastards, the pair were marching directly towards the headquarters of the 33rd. The Sergeant pulled his head back and checked his weapons, a P90 with a faulty laser sight and an M9 handgun.

"I'll make those bastards pay for what they've done." Cole said to himself and was about to run out and shoot but horrific screaming caused him to stop. He looked around the car and saw Captain Walker patting away invisible flames and screaming, his squadmate yelling at him as the 33rd began to pepper them with gunfire. Sergeant Cole aimed and fired a few shots at the Captain but realised that the P90 was out of ammo. "Shit." He muttered and watched at the distance as the pair slaughtered his fellow Americans and made it to the last outpost guarding the Tower.

He saw the two behind some sandbags and carefully approached as the position was surrounded by the last remaining forces of the Damned 33rd, his hand reaching for his pistol until the Captain stood up and dropped his weapon.

"What?" Cole whispered and watched the man get shoved over the side of the sandbags by his former squadmate, who preceded to fire wildly at the soldiers. The Zulu Squad Sergeant watched the madman for a moment then turned his attention to his original target, the insane Captain Walker. Cole ran after him as the man entered the Tower, skidding to a stop at the entrance as he heard a faint elevator ding.

Sergeant Cole ran through the building and spotted the elevator, punching the call button a few times and pacing before the door. Finally, after an eternity, the doors opened and Cole stepped inside and pressed the button to the penthouse, Colonel Konrad's old room. After the incident with the Exiles, the Colonel gave a last order to defend Dubai and save the locals before disappearing into the suite. Cole looked at his hands, at the blood of his allies on them, then shook his head and waited for the doors to open. When they did, he heard something that shook him.

"If that's what you believe, then shoot me! Two." A voice barked from above him, Cole drew his M9 and cautiously moved through the deserted and barren room.

"I didn't mean to hurt anybody." Another responded, his voice almost exactly the same as the first, the Sergeant paused and thought about who'd be up here besides the Captain.

"No-one ever does, Walker. Three." The first voice said and Cole heard the distinct sound of a revolver cocking, his stance changed to a low profile as he moved towards the stairs. "Four! Is this what you really what Walker? So be it. Five!" Cole reached the top of the stairs and saw the shape of the insane Captain with a gun to his head.

"I'm sorry." He heard a distant voice say, then Walker pulled the trigger. Sergeant Cole, the last remaining member of Zulu Squad, watched the man who caused Dubai to crumble collapse backwards into a chair that slowly spun around. Cole slumped to his knees and breathed heavily, his pistol still in his hands. Slowly, the Sergeant got to his feet and walked towards the large window that looked over Dubai, over the fires of the enraged refugees and the mad Delta squad, over the innocents they killed and over the storm wall that was slowly devouring the city.

"Not even a strong man could deny the truth." He whispered and stood up straight, his eyes forward as he lifted his pistol to his head. "Nobody will die a hero." He muttered and shut his eyes. Sergeant Cole pulled the trigger and ended the last remaining Zulu Squad member and cut the survivors of the Damned 33rd in half. Just another victim to the slaughter.

* * *

A lone soldier sat atop a skyscraper that looked over the Radio Man's towers, if they were still there. His friend was being devoured by crows and they looked like they were having a feast, the soldier scared them away and looked over the dead sniper. The soldier slowly grabbed the torn and ruined American flag that was barely moving the in the night's breeze, pulling down and grabbing a few metal rods from the little sniping spot. He constructed a small tent over the fallen sniper and saluted for a minute, ignoring the flies and crows that hung around him.

The soldier then turned and pulled his scarf up to his nose, grabbing a small recorder that used to belong to the sniper. The solder glanced out over Dubai as he spoke in a dry, dead tone.

"This is a Captain of the Damned 33rd, to anybody who finds this shithole... welcome to hell." He finished the recording and threw the recorder through the air, he then turned his piercing blue eyes to the approaching storm wall, the sand already peeling his skin from his exposed forehead and cheeks.

It wouldn't be discovered after three years what happened to Dubai, the Damned 33rd's attempted rescue and the survivors rebellion. The CIA attempting to stop a war, and the traitorous and heartless Delta squad, who assisted in murdering Dubai. Only one question could be asked if Captain Walker was still alive...

 **Do you feel like a hero yet?**


End file.
